


Are You Afraid?

by thallas



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thallas/pseuds/thallas
Summary: Summary: Steve uses the “Avenger’s Slut” for the first time and makes sure to exploit her fears.Warnings: non-con, kidnapping, torture-ish, manipulationWord Count: 3.1k
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Are You Afraid?

“Ah- fuck," Bucky grunted as he came in your mouth. He gripped your hair, making you deep-throat him. The tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat, his cum sliding down it.

Lack of air made your eyes water, tears sliding down your cheeks. He pulled out of your mouth, breathing heavily. You swallowed the thick, salty liquid. You were out of breath, collapsing back further on your knees. The man released your hair, letting out a satisfied groan. You wiped your eyes.

He pet your hair, "You did so fucking good. God, no wonder we keep your pretty face around, huh?"

He caressed the side of your face, gently assisting you to stand up by tugging on your hair. The cold cement floor hurt your knees, which were now scratched up and irritated. Bucky stared at you as you began to redress. Wearing only a short, simple, red nightgown and a pair of lacy black panties. It revealed a lot because it was too small of a size for you. What else would you expect though? You're the Avenger’s slut, everything you wear would be revealing.

You faced the man now. He didn't put his clothes back on. You knew what he wanted, but you always liked to wait for an order.

He gestured downward, "Well, slut? I'm not going to redress myself."

You took the hint, grimacing by the name-calling. He noticed this.

“What?" The large, yet lithe man chuckled, "It's been two weeks of breaking you in and you still aren't used to being called a whore?"

You pulled up his pants and boxers, rebuckling his belt. "Two weeks from you. A month from everyone else. And yeah: It's not all that enjoyable."

The man hummed in amusement and understanding. He'd felt the same way once in his life. Trapped and being forced to do something you don't want to do. Alone. Captivated. And you hated feeling trapped. It was one thing you just couldn't handle. You simply watched as the muscled man walked up the basement stairs and slammed the door shut. Not everyone was as nice as Bucky when it came to asking for sex. Some would just come downstairs and say one simple word. "Strip."

After all, they were “heroes” who felt they deserved you for everything they do. Yet, then again, they brought you here against your free-will. If only that stupid girl hadn't lured you here. You were walking home when you saw her. Of course, you were going to help a girl who was in distress. You shouldn't trust everyone so easily though. Because once you knelt down to help her, an arm was around your neck in a snap. A hand covered your mouth as you had fought back. Kicking, scratching, yelling, you tried it all. None of which had dissuaded your abductor.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch." A deep voice resounded by your ear, which only further panicked you. You started to tear up as you tried anything and everything to get away from this man. You had felt your heels connect with his shins many times already, but that didn't even make him loosen his grip.

"Stop struggling." The arm around your neck grew tighter and your vision started to speckle with dots as the man dragged you backwards. "Natasha, grab her legs and force them down."

You felt the woman’s surprisingly strong hands grab you at the ankles and force your legs to be still against the person behind you.

"Isn’t she pretty, Natasha?" He spoke against your ear, though you were barely listening. You were far more concerned about the air that was refusing to get to your lungs.

"Yeah, but I’m sure she'd look prettier in a dress." A ringing voice tainted your ears, it sounded far more derogatory and hostile coming out of her mouth.

"I think we needed a new toy at home anyways, right? Should we keep her?" His voice was teasing. "The boys would have fun with this one."

That was the last thing you had heard before you had blacked out. And when you woke up, you were tied up in a basement. A man with dark hair, Bucky, explained your situation, and that you were going to follow every order given by anyone, or they were going to kill you. And sure, people were rude and derogatory but none had actually built pleasure upon using any of your fears.

You sighed as you looked back upon that memory. That was a month ago. Granted it sucked at first, you were now taking enjoyment by being wanted by so many people. It felt good when they praised you and of course you got enjoyment out of the pleasure as well. You couldn't really blame them or take offense to them calling you a slut. Because that's exactly what you are. The basement door opened, and there was a light pattern of footsteps.

A voice rang out, "We made something to eat. Come upstairs now."

At least they had allowed you that freedom. Getting up and getting something to eat. You were allowed to do that as long as someone was with you. You sauntered up the stairs somberly. You were easily worn out after a few hours of sexual activity. Shit wears you down. You walked up the wooden stairs onto the main floor. You stumbled a little bit on your last step, looking down as you continued walking on. Then your shoulder met with someone else's.

"Oh- I'm sorry." You were quick to lose balance, and catch yourself in the midst of an apology. The other person didn't even stumble.

"Watch it." Those two simple words and the eerily familiar voice that was using them were enough to make you panic.

You were about to continue walking but froze. You were absolutely terrified. You would recognize that mocking voice anywhere. That was the guy who kidnapped you. You felt cold. "I-I'm sorry."

The person turned to give you a once-over. Then his dark emotionless eyes made contact with yours.

"You know what? She was right. You do look prettier in a dress."

He laughed mockingly as he walked away, while you were frozen to your spot.

~

Your head spun with questions about this man. What was his name? Why did he look familiar? Why did he bring you here? And you were going to figure those answers out.

You rarely talked with any of the woman here, seeing as you were mostly a slut for the guys. But it probably wouldn't take long for a girl to come and ask you to do anything sexual. Unless... What if you slept with one to get the answers you wanted? Someone oughta know everything about him.

"Um," you cleared your throat. It wasn't usual that you would speak during dinner. "Sam, can I ask a question?”

The annoyed male glanced at you, then looked back down at his soup, "What?"

"Do you know anyone who knows the person who brought me here? Like, really well know him?" Your voice almost quivered, fearing you'd be in trouble for asking about him.

"The shitface with the shield?" He asked, to clarify who you were talking about. You nodded. He thought for a minute before he spoke again, "Yeah, I know someone. Her name's Natasha. You'll find her on the third floor. Door number 131. She has red hair, and you won't miss her because first of all, she’s the biggest woman image we have, and second of all, everybody knows Black Widow."

You took in this information, slowly nodding your head. "Thanks... Do you think I can go talk to her?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want." The man shrugged. "I don't give a shit. If you get caught, it's your hide, not mine."

~

You quickly and quietly finished your dinner, walking out of the kitchen to get to the third floor. You walked through the brightly lit hallway, looking for a specific number on a specific door. It took a while, but after a lit bit you turned down a little separate hallway, reading a door with “131” in bold, metal numbers. You mustered up the courage, bringing your fist up to the door.

You waited for a few seconds until you heard light footsteps. The handle turned harshly and the door whipped open.

"Yeah?" The girl asked before she even looked out. She glanced up. "Oh."

Her face only showed confusion, before a spark of recognition sparked.

"Ohh, you're the little plaything, aren't you?" She smirked, leaning her hip against the door frame. "Are you here to offer me a little something?"

Your confidence wavered, "Uh, no, I was actually going to ask you-"

She was quick to cut you off, scoffing playfully. "Oh? You came to ask me something? You don't think you're going to get anything without a price, do you babe?"

You flushed a little at the nickname, "What would you want in return?"

"Ever done oral with a woman before?"

You shook your head, "No."

Natasha laughed, pulling you into the room. "Well, now's your chance to try. What do you need to know?”

~

You had gotten all the information you had thought you would need. Enough to know to stay away from this guy. Natasha had told you everything. Steve Rogers, is someone who will exploit you, especially by using your fears.

Unfortunately for you, you just weren't quick enough to get away from him.

"So." He stood at the end of the hallway with his hands in his brown leather jacket’s pockets.

You tried walking faster after hearing his voice, acting as if you hadn't heard him. 

“Hey, little bitch, I’m talking to you!" You heard him call. As much as you wanted to pretend you didn't hear him again, you decided that it would be against your best judgement. You stopped walking, but regardless, the man grabbed your arm.

"You know, there’s something I have wanted to do since I first brought you here," Steve said, he sounded haughty, and you saw his cheek tweak up in the slightest. You took that as a sign that he was smirking.

"It's only fair that I get my share."

Steve pushed you against the wall, encasing his arms next to you. You took a deep breath in, and the man tilted his head, "What? Are you not a fan of being this close to someone? Or is it deeper than that, hmm?"

His hand came up, wrapping itself in your hair.

"Are you scared yet? Scared of what I'm going to do?"

He tried to work a reaction out of you, but you closed your eyes. That was enough confirmation for him. He knew you were scared, you knew you were scared. He had you stuck against the wall, which made you nervous enough as is. You didn't like being like that.

He pulled you by your hair down the hallway, leading to a deep brown wooden door. He swung the door open, shoving you in. You fell to your knees on the hard cement, only able to watch as he dug into his jeans, pulling out a key. That's when you really started to panic. He locked the door, slipping the key back into his pocket, not before taunting you with it though.

"No, no, no!" You cried, "Let me out! Please, don't keep me trapped in here!"

Steve chuckled, stalking towards you now, the vein in his neck twitching. You looked around the small room frantically; looking for a way out, some way to reassure yourself you couldn't truly be trapped in there with him. But, other than for the door he'd thrown you in here from, there was nothing. No other doors, no windows, no trapdoors. Nothing. You scooted back into the corner, trying to put distance between you and him.

“I think I know what you're afraid of," Steve came closer then stopped moving, speaking to you in a sing-song voice. "I used to study fears. I know a lot about them. Went through a lot of them even. I saw so many people, with such different fears.”

You shook your head, as much as he was distracting you, you were still panicking. You knew eventually he was going to stop his spiel of words and do whatever he wanted to you.

"What do you want from me?" You cried out, helplessly.

His lips curved up. "I want to exploit your fears."

He bent down in front of you, caressing your face roughly. "You don't like to feel trapped, do you?"

The male chuckled darkly, "Do you know what that's called? Cleithrophobia."

His hand jerked from your face to your hair, grabbing it roughly. You winced as he pulled you up, pushing you by thrusting your head forward. He shoved you down onto a bed. It was dark, hard to see with such little light. He turned you onto your back, grabbing your throat. His grip was tight, but not tight enough to cut off your oxygen. His other hand slid up your nightgown, roughly grabbing your breasts.

"Ah, stop! Please, just leave me alone!" You begged for him to stop.

His hand slipped lower, caressing your stomach before sliding down to the trim of your panties. You struggled, his grip on your neck growing tighter the worse you struggled. He slowly and teasingly pulled them down in the slightest, then allowed them to fold back into place.

He pushed your panties to the side again, rubbing a finger up your slit. You brought your knee up, hitting him in the stomach. He showed no sign of pain, only a flash of amusement running through his eyes. He removed his hand from your lower half, allowing it to join his other hand, squeezing tightly.

You started kicking wildly, feeling lightheaded, you swung your arms, pushing against him. Losing your breath made you start to feel dizzy and tired.

Steve laughed mockingly, "I didn't know you were into choking!"

You closed your eyes, feeling more tears slip down the side of your face. He finally released you, allowing you to breathe. You gasped in air, coughing. Your throat felt swollen and raw. Your body refused to move as you felt his body move off of yours across the room. You had a hard time focusing your vision, trying to look at one thing.

Steve came back, he roughly grabbed your wrist, squeezing as he tied rope around your wrist. He grabbed your other arm, watching as you tried with all your might to find it in you to stop him, to struggle, to do something to keep him from restraining you. He tied it off onto the bedframe, stepping back to admire how helpless you looked.

"Please," you rasped, "P-please!"

Steve stared at you disapprovingly, "If I wanted to hear anything from you, I'd ask. But I didn't, so, shut the fuck up."

He crawled back in between your legs, pushing them apart. You thrashed your feet, trying to land any kind of kick on him. He growled and forced both of your legs down. "If you want to keep these, I suggest you fucking stop."

Since all of the commotion allowed your clothes to shift, Steve had to push your panties to the side again. He rubbed your clit up and down roughly, "For someone so against me fucking them, you sure are wet."

Steve unbuckled his belt, pushing down his jeans and boxers. He grabbed your hip, lining his cock up, then roughly pushing himself into you.

"N-No! Get out of me! No!" You sobbed, shaking your head in disgust.

He groaned as he pulled out and pushed back inside of you, encasing himself in your tight warmth. He found a satisfying rhythm, keeping a pace that only wrought noises from him. He threw his head back, reaching over you and grabbing a hold of the bedframe with one hand, while steadily thrusting into you.

"You’re still so fucking tight!" He exclaimed, "I'm surprised, after so much of whoring around, you think you'd be loose!"

You closed your eyes, turning your head away from him. Trying to ignore what was happening, trying to just not feel it.

Steve leaned down, placing chaste kisses against your jawline and neck. He took his hand off of the bedframe, letting it yank your hair, throwing your head back. His warmth breath ghosted your neck, his teeth grazing your neck. He thrusted into your sob-wracked body once more, biting down on your neck.

"Ow! No! Let me go!" You found your voice again.

Steve let out another groan, pounding into your body roughly. "You think you'd be resisting against me more. Is this what you wanted, you disgusting bitch? Huh?"

He shifted, hitting a place that was more pain than pleasure. You let out a moan of pain, weeping into the bed sheets. "P-p-please..."

You felt his heavy breath next to your ear, and he forced his hand down to your front, teasing at your slit.

"You're so wet, and I feel you contracting around me. You're still going to pretend you aren't enjoying this?"

His breath heaved into your ear, and he grazed his teeth against it. The fabric of his lowered jeans chafed against you.

You felt him roughly pound inside of you, forcing out your liquids onto the sheets. You didn't want to admit the fact that he even was remotely pleasuring you.

Steve chuckled darkly, biting your ear, "Did you just cum?"

You whined in protest, and you tried vocalizing yourself. "N-No! Get away from me!"

Steve pulled out of you, jerking himself off. He groaned audibly, and forced the ropes to slacken from the headboard. He grabbed you by the hips as you thrashed, pulling you to be at the edge of the bed.

“Stay." He muttered. He guided himself back into your tight entrance, moaning out as your wetness covered him. You felt his fingers dig into your delicate hips, forcefully thrusting into your aching opening.

"You feel so good." He groaned.

His continuous pounding slowed down, getting sloppier. He grunted, making more punctuated thrusts. You felt his burning liquid taint your insides as his cock twitched. He leaned over you, pulling out. Everything felt numb.

You felt manipulated; he'd played with you. He had played with your biggest fear. Steve chuckled to himself as he used your panties to wipe himself off on. He got up, pulling his pants and boxers up fully, and buckling his belt again.

"Have fun here, sweetheart." He teased. "I hope someone finds you before you run out of time."

"No! Y-You can't leave me here! No, no, no, no!" You sobbed, feeling fear creep into your chest as the air grew heavy.

Steve unlocked the door, giving a smirk goodbye as he left.


End file.
